The Desert Mothers
peer out of pale pink apple
blossoms, fringed chamisa
clumps of gray green
asters…
A glittering diamond frost
coats dark red ground.
Redwing and Dove songs
celebrate new life
in the Round.
My Visions
repeat the warning:
Slow down.
It’s not time
for too much
raw Sap to rise.
Scorching tender roots
is a grave mistake.
Roots need Earth space,
to drift and dream,
delve ever deeper
into meaning
before spring fire
bursts into golden splendor,
embodying September’s Grace.
The Desert Mothers know
that timing is all –
that rooting requires patience,
heartfelt attention
and dedication.
Heeding signs
from rain clouds
unfolds forgiving
blue
wings around us.*
I imagine tender roots
twining around each other.
Seasons turn.
Together,
embracing possibilities,
changes
of perspective,
the weather of uncertainty,
they thrive.
Well nourished
by Love that tolerates Separation –
one day – root tendrils become robust.
Passion can now be unleashed
to climb through
the Desert Mother’s Hair
torching an evening sky,
with Wild Flames
from a Noonday Star.
Two startling synchronicities
I leave the house and although there are heavy clouds that cover the entire sky a perfect circle of blue opens – possibility…
Then later I am re –reading the poem, and although it is perfectly still the door simply opens…
*The experience of the forgiving blue sky is one I have written about in the poem. I heed the signs… and I feel the power of the spirit is near…
That, and a strange hope of wholeness… attend to the roots – the message could hardly be more clear.
(Meet Mago Contributor) Sara Wright.
Beautiful expressive writing and I love the photo to accompany it, so much.